


Blood, Darkness, Death, And Love

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Other Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-05
Updated: 2006-03-05
Packaged: 2018-08-16 00:46:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8080189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Missing scenes, 3.19 "Damage," 3.20 "The Forgotten," 3.22 "The Council." Reed/m. (05/20/2004)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Damn, but this is really gonna hurt.  
  
Part of this story is in answer to (The Great) Gigi's "Damage Challenge," or, why wasn't Hayes with the boarding party? Here's my reason. Thanks also to Gigi for letting me use her version of Hayes's past. It's very much appreciated. Finally, This refers somewhat to my own stories "Snipe Hunting," "Minnesota Nice," and "Down by the Riverside," available on my Web site.  
  
Beta: ListMom Sarah and Kylie Lee, and thank the Muses for both of them. Any dumb stuff is totally my fault and has nothing to do with them. (Many, many thanks as well to Shi-Shi and Sarah, for giving me the chronological details for "The Council," which I haven't actually seen yet. And Super Squeaky thanks to my sis, for the medical beta and telling me I was missing a scene.;->)  


* * *

They had been running for their lives, the three of them, while the _Enterprise_ disintegrated around them. It had gone eerily quiet, as the starship died, with the systems shutting down bit by bit. The only sounds left were the pounding of their desperate footfalls, the sudden vibration as another part of the ship exploded, the thin, distant wailing of an alarm.

Then Matthew had rammed him right into a bulkhead. He had felt the major's hands, like hammers on his back, then he'd crashed head-first into the wall.

Joshua Kemper was sure he hadn't blacked out, except that suddenly he was awake, blinking in such complete darkness that for a moment he thought he'd gone blind.

Now there was no sound at all—no alarm, no vibrations, no hint of anyone else alive. He could hear his own heartbeat, loud with fear, and the quick rasp of his breathing.

He was lying facedown, with his legs tucked under him, in a crumpled heap where he'd slid down the wall. His arms trembled—adrenaline, he figured, since only his head hurt—but it was easy enough to push himself onto his knees. He stood carefully, shaky and unsure of his footing, both hands pressed to the bulkhead.

The dark fell around him like a weight.

He turned, his back to the wall. He was afraid to move because he couldn't see anything. Maybe there was a pit there, now, where the deck had been. Maybe Matthew's body was lying broken in the dark, tens of meters below.

And Snipe? Where was he? What had happened to him?

Joshua swallowed. "Major? Snipe?" His voice was pathetically quiet. He took a breath. "Snipe! Matthew!" Better, not cowed by the silence, though it made his headache worse. But no one answered him.

He tapped shaky fingers against his throat, activating his sub-dermal communicator. "This is Kemper," he said. "Can anyone read me? Hayes and Rosenfeld are with me—they're wounded," he added, because he was sure of it. "Come in."

Only his own voice echoed thinly back to him. There was nothing else.

The surge of panic was like fire through his veins. He couldn't be the only one still alive. He couldn't be the only one on the whole ship still alive.

He didn't even allow himself to think about Malcolm, what might have happened to him, on the bridge. Malcolm was alive; that was all. There was no other option.

Joshua stepped forward, away from the safety of the wall. He had to find them. He just had to find them.

His boot hit something solid—metal—and he tripped, fell over it. His palms hit hard, stinging against the deck and rippling impact up his arms. His knee hit the edge of whatever tripped him, and the pain jabbed daggers of light behind his eyes.

_The ceiling's come down_ , he thought, even as he was scrabbling upright, grabbing at his knee. He pushed himself back until he was kneeling at the thick edge of the metal—a girder, maybe—gritting his teeth against the pain in his leg.

He stayed still only long enough for the hurting to dull. Then he began crawling, feeling along the edge of the girder. He moved slowly, searching, cautious of where he put his knees, his hands. He wished that he had his flashlight with him.

His palm landed in a pool of blood, still warm. He knew just by the feel of it, but this close he could smell it too—like salt and iron. He closed his eyes, steeling himself, then reached out, adjusting his weight. He brushed against wet hair, then blood-matted scalp.

His fingers ghosted downward, and there was someone's temple, then the curve of an eyebrow. Joshua moved his hand lower, gentle as air. He didn't even breathe.

The eyes were open, sticky with blood, and they didn't blink when he touched them. He couldn't feel any breath from the nostrils or from the open mouth. The lips were already starting to cool.

There was no pulse on the neck, though Joshua kept his fingers there for a very long time.

He was dead. Snipe or Matthew was dead, with his skull smashed by a falling beam. Joshua couldn't see to know who it was. Matthew's hair was longer, but there was so much blood Joshua couldn't tell.

Joshua started moving again, faster, no longer caring where he put his hands. His head was pounding and his bruised knee flared with pain, but he didn't care about that, either. He groped his way along, searching for Matthew, or Snipe—whoever was left. Whoever wasn't dead. There was no sound except for his breath, keening in and out like mourning, and the mad tempo of his heart.

His hand swung into someone's chest, hit muscle and bone.

Someone batted his hand away.

"Quit it," Matthew said.

"Oh thank God." Joshua was still on all fours, like an animal, and now he let his head drop down. "I thought you were dead, too. I thought you were both dead." He swayed, dizzy, suddenly exhausted, and rebalanced himself with an abrupt jolt. It was like his relief had taken the last of his strength from him.

"That you, Josh?" A hand bumped into him, grabbed his wrist. "I can't see a damn thing."

"Yeah," Joshua said. "The lights are out. Comm's dead, too." He sat cross-legged on the floor, moving gingerly, making sure he didn't hit the major. Matthew's hand stayed around his wrist; Joshua didn't try to dislodge it. He grimaced at the pain in his knee, and his head, then almost laughed, because of how little it mattered. Matthew was still alive, and that was everything.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Joshua said.

"Where's Snipe?" Matthew asked him.

"He's gone." Joshua answered immediately, because his commanding officer had asked him a question. And suddenly it was true: Jacob was dead. His friend was dead, gone, and the shock, the grief of that, was worse than anything like pain. "I—I found him. He was..." But Joshua couldn't finish, couldn't speak to explain.

Matthew's hand tightened around his wrist, like a reprimand. "Are you sure?"

Joshua nodded, then remembered Matthew couldn't see him. "Yeah," he whispered. It was very hard to say it. "There was no pulse." And the blood, everywhere on his poor head. And his eyes, open but never moving.

"Check again."

Joshua's eyes widened. It felt like they were touching the dark. "Sir...?"

"You made a mistake," Matthew said simply. "You had to've—He was right beside me. Go check again."

"He's dead." Joshua said.

"That's not a request, Sergeant!" Matthew let go of Joshua's wrist; Joshua heard his body shifting, then the major crying out.

"What is it? Sir! What's wrong?" How could he have not noticed? How could he have been so stupid, to think nothing was wrong? He reached for Matthew blindly, thinking only about finding where he was hurt, to try and help him, but when he touched Matthew's chest again the major slapped his hand away.

"Don't!" Matthew's jaw was clenched—Joshua could hear it. "Don't move me. You'll make it worse." He was panting, and his hand suddenly gripped Joshua's, painfully hard. "Shit. Jesus God, that hurts."

"Where is it?" Joshua asked. He stayed very still.

"My leg," Matthew said. His breath was still overly fast, but he finally let go of Joshua's hand. "I think it's fractured—the fucking beam landed on it."

"All right," Joshua said. He licked his lips, moving slowly back onto all fours. "I'm going to see." He edged forward, careful not to touch Matthew. "Maybe I can lift it off you, get us out of here."

"I thought I gave you an order."

Joshua's head swung towards Matthew, though he couldn't see him. "What?"

"Snipe," Matthew said, angry. "I told you to check on Snipe."

Joshua froze. "Yes, sir," he said softly.

He shuffled around in the darkness, crawling back the way he'd come. He found Snipe quite quickly—there was barely a body length between him and Matthew. The girder was pinning Snipe's shoulders, where Joshua guessed it had rolled after striking his head. Jacob was lying on his front, with his head turned to the right. His eyes were still open.

It was awful, having to touch him.

"I'm sorry," Joshua said. There was still no pulse, no movement at all from Jacob's body.

"You're wrong," was Matthew's immediate answer. His voice was strident in the unnatural quiet. "You have to be wrong. He was beside me, right fucking beside me! He can't be dead."

"I'm not wrong, sir," Joshua said, wishing that he was, wishing so much that he was. "I'm sorry."

"He was right beside me," Matthew said. It was like he was pleading.

"I know."

"Damn," Matthew said quietly. Then louder, "damn. Damn. Damn!" It was very easy to hear his fist hitting against the floor.

Joshua made his way back, tracing along the girder. His knee was beginning to throb. "It's the same beam, sir," he said. "It's pinning Snipe as well. I'm going to try to move it."

"Fine," Matthew said. His voice was rough. "Just do it quick."

"I'll try," Joshua said. He knelt next to the girder, attempting to get his shoulder under it. "This might hurt some, sir," he said, and heard Matthew grunt in reply. He took a second, concentrating, then shoved as hard as he could.

It barely moved, but Matthew screamed in agony, suddenly stopped.

"Matt!" Joshua was beside him instantly, moving with the rote of terror. "Not you. Not you too. Oh my God, what have I done?" His hands were shaking so badly he couldn't find a pulse, but when he put his palm on Matthew's chest he could feel him breathing, shallow and fast.

"Thank God...Thank God..." Joshua gently touched Matthew's face—his eyes were closed, the skin clammy with sweat. He was unconscious, passed out from pain.

"I'm so sorry," Joshua whispered. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm his heart. He thought he might throw up, grimly fought it until his stomach had more-or-less settled. His eyes stung with sweat, and he wiped his face on his jacket sleeve.

He sat again, fearing he'd keel over if he didn't. He stretched his hurt leg out, carefully moving Matthew's head so that it was pillowed on his thigh. Joshua took off his jacket, using it to cover Matthew's shoulders. The air was much cooler without it, and he shivered.

He wondered if the life-support was gone, even though the ship still had gravity. Maybe it would get a lot colder before long.

He felt behind him, leaning back gratefully when his hands hit nothing but corridor wall. He tried his comm again, but there was no answer.

Joshua hoped someone would find them soon. He was worried about Matthew's leg, how bad it was, how much more damage he might have done to it. If it was a compound fracture, Matthew could be bleeding to death. Joshua would never even know.

He wished he could see anything. He wished he knew what was going on, if anyone else was all right.

He really wished Snipe wasn't dead.

* * *

"What are you doing?"

Joshua blinked, snapping fully alert. He had no idea how much time had passed, how long he'd been sitting with Matthew's head on his leg, except that he was uncomfortably cold. His head still hurt and his bruised knee was stiff from not moving.

"I—What? Sir? Are you all right?" Joshua's relief at hearing Matthew's voice was overtaken by a new surge of concern. Was he hurting him? His leg—

"Your hand's on my head, Sergeant."

"What?" But it was, Joshua realized, knuckles deep in the major's sweat-damp hair, just kind of...massaging. "Sorry," he mumbled, yanking his hand back. He was glad Matthew couldn't see how deeply he was blushing.

"Actually, keep doing it." Matthew said a second later. "It's distracting me from my leg."

"Yes, sir." Joshua hesitated, then threaded his fingers through Matthew's hair again. His face was absolutely burning. "How are you feeling?"

"Like crap," Matthew said tightly. "I've got a fucking titanium girder on my leg." He sighed. "It hurts like hell." Matthew's voice had become strained as he spoke, and Joshua figured his pain was worsening, the more aware he became.

Joshua tapped his comm again. Nothing. "Communications are still down, sir," he said.

"Josh." Matthew sounded weary. "You're petting me like a god-damned housecat. I think we can use first names here." He paused, his breath hitching. "Ow," he whispered.

"I'll go find help," Joshua said. "Bring someone back." He should have gone earlier. It hadn't even occurred to him.

"Go where?" Matthew asked. "Do you even know where the hell we are? What are you going to do—blunder around in the dark until you fall out an airlock?"

"We don't know how badly you're hurt," Joshua said. Part of him didn't even know why he was arguing. He didn't want to leave Matthew alone, not like this: blind and in agony with no idea when Joshua might bring help for him.

He didn't want to come back and find out Matthew had died. He didn't think he could handle that.

"Sure we do," Matthew snapped. "If it was fatal we'd've known by now."

"I don't—"

"Josh...!"

"All right," Joshua said. He was secretly grateful, and hated himself for it.

"Good." Matthew shifted a little, and suddenly hissed. "God damn it. Fuck, that hurts." He had moved his hand so he was clenching Joshua's shin; Joshua didn't think Matthew had even noticed. "Talk to me," Matthew said. His voice was harsh, his hand gripping tight enough to bruise. "Say something. Get my mind off it."

"Thank you for saving my life," Joshua said.

Matthew gave a wheezy chuckle. "That the best you can do?"

"I mean it!" Joshua said. How could Matthew think he wasn't serious? "When the beam fell, before the lights went out. You pushed me out of the way."

"I shoved you into a wall, Josh," Matthew said. "Don't thank me for braining you."

"You saved my life," Joshua insisted. He smirked, though he didn't know what was actually funny. "I think that deserves a little gratitude."

"You don't get it." Matthew snapped. "I _didn't_ save your life—You were already out of the way. I heard something falling, and you were in front of me, and I just reacted." Joshua felt him shrugging, the short press of Matthew's shoulder against his leg. "It was instinct. It wasn't anything."

"Oh." Joshua didn't know what else to say.

"I should have pushed Snipe," Matthew said, and now his voice was bitter and deeply, deeply angry. "If I'd been thinking, if I'd taken one lousy second to _look_ , he'd be all right." His hand on Joshua's leg loosened, patted him awkwardly. "You run like a god-damned antelope, you know that? You were already out of the way. But you were _there_ , and I saw you, and I just—" He faltered, and Joshua waited silently, knowing there was nothing he could do, no way to ever, ever make this all right. He was horribly aware of Jacob's body, less than two meters away form them, cold and empty in the pitiless dark.

"He shouldn't be dead," Matthew said at last. "He shouldn't be lying there dead because I was more worried about you."

"You did the best you could, sir," Joshua said.

"No," Matthew spat. "Don't give me that crap. I let him down, and now he's dead. End of story."

Joshua leaned his head back so it was touching the wall, and ran his hand over his eyes. He moved his other hand from Matthew's head to his shoulder. The major's body was taught as a wire. "I don't think Snipe would agree," he said.

"Snipe's _dead_!" Matthew exploded, then his breath caught on a barely-swallowed scream. He grabbed Joshua's shin again, clenching his fist around it until Joshua was sure the bone cracked, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out himself. He held Matthew's shoulder, feeling the muscles shaking.

"Oh God," Matthew rasped. "God. That one was bad." He took several deep breaths. "You're not talking, Josh."

"Sorry," Joshua said quickly. "I'm sorry. I just...I can't think of anything." All of his thoughts kept spiraling back to his needle- sharp terror that Malcolm was as dead as Jacob, that everyone was, that Joshua and Matthew would both die there in the dark and never seen anyone again.

"This isn't an officer's exam, Josh." Matthew made a noise that might have been a laugh, but it was gone almost immediately. "I'd just made him a corporal again," he said. "Christ. I'd forgotten that."

"Hawkins told me how happy Snipe was, about that," Joshua said. "'Should've done it sooner," Matthew said. "But the bastard never gave me a reason. He was such a loudmouth little shit...I guess you know he was in love with me, huh?" It wasn't really a question.

"Yeah," Joshua said, and he smiled a little. "We all did. Everyone knew."

"I figured as much," Matthew said. "I thought he was kidding, at first, when he told me. I was sure Mac had put him up to it. I could've killed them both."

"He was serious, sir," Joshua said. His smile widened, remembering how badly Snipe hid his infatuation, how much Mac had enjoyed ragging him about it. He wondered how she would react when she found out he was gone. If she was even still alive herself. His smile disappeared.

"I know," Matthew said. "And I told you to call me Matthew."

"I'm not petting you anymore, sir."

"Joshua." Matthew's voice was suddenly sad. "I can't see, my leg is killing me, I'm cold and we may be the last two people on the entire ship left alive. Chances are we're not making it out of this. And if not," He went on before Joshua could voice his automatic protest. "I'd at least like my last conversation to be real, eh? Not full of 'yes, sirs' like you're just fucking humoring me. So call me Matthew, all right? It can't be that hard."

"No," Joshua agreed softly. "It's not that hard, Matthew."

"Good," Matthew said. "So," and Joshua was sure he heard a smile creeping into his voice, "do you do that thing with Malcolm?"

Joshua blinked. "What thing?"

"You know—that petting thing. Does he like it?"

"Yeah, he does," Joshua said. He knew he was blushing again, but he took the hint and carded his fingers back through Matthew's hair. He refused to think that he'd never have another chance to do it for Malcolm. "He kind of purrs. It's really cute."

"Cute, huh?" Matthew said slyly. "I bet he'd have a coronary if he knew I knew that."

"He'd probably just kill you." Joshua grinned. "So you wouldn't spread it around."

"Probably..." Matthew's humor was suddenly gone. "I lied to him, you know. Jacob."

"What do you mean? About the promotion?" He couldn't imagine Matthew doing that, then remembered that it didn't even matter anymore.

"No," Matthew said. "Not that. When he told me he was in love with me. I lied to him. Said I wasn't interested in guys."

"Why?" Joshua hadn't ever thought about Matthew's love life, or whom he might choose to have one with. But lying about it made no sense to him—until he thought about it, and then it did. "You didn't want to upset him."

"More like I just didn't want to deal with him at all," Matthew said. "It was a lot easier than telling him there was no way in hell—not with his snot-nosed dumb insolence making me want to twist his head off half the time." He shifted position, his shoulder bumping Joshua's leg. "Wish I could lie on my back," he muttered. "I've got a boyfriend, back home. And a daughter. Heather."

"They must miss you," Joshua said. He knew how much he'd miss Malcolm...But he shoved that thought away as hard as he could.

"Heather does," Matthew said. "She's really brave about it, though. She knows I'm out here to keep her safe." His voice dropped, until he was almost whispering. "I wish I knew if Miguel did."

"I'm sure he misses you too," Joshua said.

"Maybe." Another shrug, pressing briefly against Joshua's leg. "I should have told Jacob the truth, though. He deserved that much. But I didn't want him to know. Figured it was none of his business."

"It wasn't," Joshua said simply. "You didn't owe him anything."

"You shouldn't lie to someone because he says he loves you, Josh," Matthew said. It was an admonishment, though Joshua didn't know if it was for himself or Matthew. "He deserved better than that."

"I don't know, Matt," Joshua said. "What you said—he was strutting around for weeks, even before his promotion. Where's the harm in that? The truth...The truth wouldn't have done him any favors."

"I can't believe he's dead," Matthew said all of a sudden. "It's like, I keep expecting him to say something. I keep waiting for it."

"I know," Joshua said. "It's stupid, but, I hate how he's all by himself, over there. I keep thinking he'll get cold."

"He's not alone," Matthew said. "We're with him."

"It's not the same."

"Yeah." Matthew squeezed Joshua's shin. Gently, like a friend. "It's not the same."

The burst of static from Joshua's sub dermal communicator made him yelp in shock. It sounded like an explosion, terribly loud after they'd been in such silence for so long.

"...To any MACO," stuttered someone's voice. It was choppy and fading in and out, but it was beautiful. It meant someone else was out there, was alive.

Joshua tapped his own comm hard enough that he hurt his neck. "This is Kemper," he said. His voice was trembling so badly he wasn't sure if he'd be comprehensible. "Hayes is with me—he's injured." He couldn't make himself mention Jacob.

"Sarge?" It was Chang's voice—he was sure of it now, despite the static—and the corporal sounded so relieved Joshua wanted to hug him. He decided he would, the minute he saw him. God, it would be so good to be able to see anything. "Kemper? You're dropping out. Is that you?"

"Yes!" Joshua shouted. "It's me and Hayes! We're—" He glanced around helplessly. "I don't know where the hell we are! Somewhere on F deck! Can you hear me?"

"Yes, sir!" Chang sounded absolutely elated. "I'm with Mac and Hawkins! We're on our way! Is the major all right?"

"I'm fine," Matthew said, and Joshua had the odd stereo of hearing his voice next to him as well as through his comm. "Bring flashlights." He didn't mention Jacob either.

"Understood, sir. See you soon. Chang out." The comm clicked off.

"Well, Major," Joshua said. His voice was still shaking, and his laugh was more like a sob, but he couldn't seem to care. "Looks like I'll be 'yes, sir'-ing you again for awhile."

"Yes it does, Sergeant," Matthew said. He squeezed Joshua's shin again. "And get your hand out of my hair."

* * *

"I don't know, Mac," Amanda Cole was saying, "I thought his speech was good. Inspiring." She took a sip from her bottle and made a face. "God, I hate warm beer."

"You were inspired by that crap, Mandy?" McKenzie shook her head, as if just the possibility was astonishing. "All I could think was, how pissed-off Snipe would be if he could've heard that. 'We will succeed.'" She did a bad imitation of Archer, making her voice heavy with self-importance. "'For Earth. And for the eighteen.' It sounded like the kind of thing my coach would've said in Little League." She sniffed, wiping on of her eyes on her sleeve. "He didn't even _name_ them." She started crying again, quietly. "Poor Snipe," she whispered.

It had been Mac's idea to have a wake for Snipe, though given the condition of the ship it wasn't much of one. The small group of MACOs was all gathered in one of the lower lounges, which had survived the attack with surprisingly little damage. They would've used Joshua's quarters, like usual, except that one of the bulkheads was busted open to the corridor, and there was still only emergency power on his deck. As it was, he was sharing his billet with Chang, Hawkins and Parsons, because their quarters were in worse shape than his.

They were all filthy, and exhausted from spending the last two days helping to clear debris from seemingly every part of the ship. Joshua had no idea where Kit had gotten the beer from, though it was warm and stale. He supposed it was just as well—this was a lousy time to get drunk, much as he might have wanted to.

"We actually made out pretty lucky, if you think of it," Parsons said. His first name was George. Joshua didn't know him very well, but he'd been Snipe's roommate. "I mean, it was just dumb luck the major didn't die, too. Or you, Sarge," he added, looking up at Joshua. Joshua gave him a nod in return, and a flicker of a smile. "The fleeters lost 17 of their own."

Mac swung her head around to glare at him, her expression incredulous fury. "We got a man down—you lost your fucking roommate, for Christ's sakes—and you think that's _lucky_?"

"I didn't mean it like that," George said instantly. He looked horrified. "He was my friend. I don't think it's good he's gone. I just meant—"

"It's okay," Joshua said. "We know what you meant." He threw a warning glare at Mac, but she just turned her head away, wiping her eyes again.

"How's Money doing?" Amanda asked, before George or Mac could speak again.

"She's okay," Nathan said. He'd been so quiet that until Amanda asked him the question, Joshua had forgotten he was there.

Nathan Hawkins had been the last one to visit Money in sickbay, and he smiled, obviously remembering it. "She said O'Malley was teasing her, about how the captain thought she was Parsons when she got hit. It really pissed her off."

"Did you tell her about Jacob?" Mac asked.

Nathan's smile dropped. "Yeah," he said, nodding. "She cried."

"They were pretty close," Amanda said. She took another sip and grimaced, then passed her beer to Kit Chang.

Kit took the bottle wordlessly, drinking it like water. He hadn't said anything since they'd been in the lounge. Joshua couldn't remember if Kit had said anything since he'd seen Jacob's corpse two days ago. Now he just looked stunned, like he'd gotten knocked out somewhere and still hadn't recovered from it.

"Money's close to everybody," Mac said. The tear tracks were the only clean parts of her face. It was like she couldn't stop crying. "We called her 'Mama Money' back at Jupiter Station."

"Why'd you stop?" Amanda asked.

Mac gave a kind of wet chuckle. "She liked it too much. Started calling everyone 'baby.'"

Amanda smirked. "Yep," she said, leaning back on her hands, "that sounds like Money all right."

They all turned at the sound of the door chime to the lounge, then the others looked at Joshua and he shrugged. All the MACOs knew about this, but most of them were still on duty.

He pulled himself to his feet, surprised at how weary he felt, how much his muscles hurt when he moved. He didn't know why whoever it was didn't just come it, since it wasn't like they'd locked the door. He had to hit the keypad twice before it slid open, and even then it was only when he nudged it with his foot.

He didn't recognize the fleeter standing there for a second, mostly because it was hard to make out his features in the low light running off auxiliary power. Then Joshua remembered back to the planetside training mission, when Matthew—and this fleeter—had almost drowned after being attacked by an animal.

"Ian Young, right?" He managed a smile, then glanced back at the other MACOs. Only George and Amanda were looking curiously at the door. "You here to join us?"

Ian nodded, though he looked like he wasn't sure he'd really be welcome. He was just as grimy as everyone else, with that same mix of exhaustion and fear etched in his eyes. "I was hoping I could pay my respects."

"Of course," Joshua said. He stood away from the door, so Ian could step inside the room. Joshua introduced everyone, and Ian tilted his head in quick greeting before settling himself awkwardly on the floor.

Ian tilted his palms up, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry I didn't bring anything—my quarters are pretty much a write-off."

"No problem," Amanda said, giving him a rueful smile. "It probably would've tasted like crap anyway."

"Yeah." Ian laughed, though it was short and tired. He licked his lips. "I, uh, I didn't know Jacob very well, and I'm not good at this stuff...But, he saved my life, down on the planet. I didn't know if all of you knew that."

Everyone was watching him expectantly now, but Ian just shrugged. "That's all. I just wanted to tell you that, that I wouldn't be here now, if it wasn't for him. I owe him a lot." He shrugged again, a tiny bob of his shoulders. His gaze dropped to the floor. "I thanked him, eh? But I wanted you guys to know, 'cause you were his friends. I thought you should know what he did."

"Thank you," Nathan said quietly.

"It's nothing," Ian said, just as quiet. "'Least I can do."

"Do you think he's in heaven?" Kit asked out of nowhere.

Everyone turned to look at him, but Kit had his head down, rolling his bottle between his palms, and he didn't seem to notice. He was a little drunk, Joshua figured—his dirt-streaked face was flushed, and he was speaking with the deliberate care of someone who knew they might be slurring otherwise.

"Of course Snipe's in heaven," Mac snapped. She sounded shocked, even angry. "Where else would he be?"

Kit lifted his head, blinking slowly at her. "We're not on Earth, though," he said. "I dunno. Maybe, maybe God can't find him."

Mac was definitely angry, now. She leaned forward, eyes narrowing.

Joshua had tensed when Mac did, prepared to jump in, but it was George who did it first

"It's okay, Mac," he said calmly, putting his hand up to stop her.

Mac glowered back at him, but thankfully kept her mouth shut.

"It doesn't matter where we are," George said gently to Kit, once it was certain Mac wouldn't say anything. "God's everywhere. None of us will ever get lost, no matter where we pass on."

"But we're so far _away_ ," Kit said, voice thin and wavering. "And it's all fucked up here...What if the universe has to work right for- -for your soul to get anywhere? Maybe Jacob's trapped out there, somewhere, lost and all alone..." Kit dropped his head forward and started to cry. He looked undone, absolutely beaten.

"Oh, Kit." Amanda knelt next to him, pulling him into her arms. Kit barely reacted, except to turn his head so his face was against her shoulder. "It's okay, honey," she crooned. "It's okay. It's all right." There were tears in her eyes too.

Nathan stood abruptly. "I'm sorry," he said when the others looked at him. "I have to go." He was close enough to Joshua that he could see the sweat on Nathan's face, the touch of wildness in his eyes. Nathan reminded him of a trapped animal.

_Stress,_ Joshua thought, and he immediately glanced at Nathan's belt, at the sheath that held his combat knife. But it was empty.

Nathan caught Joshua's look, and he gave a single nod. Then he all but bolted from the room.

Joshua exhaled silently in relief. Nathan was upset, but he wasn't going to the shuttle bay. He wasn't going to cut himself again. He was all right.

One by one, Ian, George, and Mac left, as if Nathan's going had given them permission. George leaned down and whispered something to Kit, and Mac touched Kit's head, smoothing his hair back with surprising gentleness. If Kit even noticed he gave no sign.

Joshua stood, but he hesitated, caught between wanting to help and having no idea how. He didn't want to leave Amanda and Kit alone like this, but maybe this was what Kit needed. Maybe it was the best thing he could do.

"I've got it, Sarge," Amanda said softly, briefly smiling. "Don't worry—I'll call if I need you."

Joshua nodded silently, hoping his gratitude showed on his face. Amanda nodded once in return, then went back to comforting Kit.

The sound of Kit's ragged breathing followed Joshua out of the room.

* * *

He thought about going to see Matthew, check up on how he was doing, and was more than halfway to the major's billet before he actually decided against it. Matthew had been released from sickbay two days earlier, so doped up from pain meds that Phlox had asked Joshua to walk him to his quarters, to make sure he didn't just pass out in the corridor. Matthew had leaned on him drunkenly, hobbling along in his walking cast and giggling every so often. He'd even tried to pet Joshua, apparently to return the favor, but only managed to swat awkwardly at his head. Joshua had thought it was oddly sweet, but mostly hilarious. He'd been grateful to have something to laugh about, if just for a few minutes.

Matthew had been a lot more sober when Joshua had seen him the next day, and in a lot more pain. He'd refused any more of Phlox's painkillers, insisting that he had to be 'sharp' in case something happened. Joshua hadn't argued, although it was pathetically obvious Matthew would be all but useless in a fight.

Matthew had also been brooding and angry, not interested in company at all. He'd told Joshua that unless they were under attack, he wanted to be left alone.

It hadn't even been a full day since then, and it was pretty late at night now, anyway. Chances were that Matthew was already asleep. And, Josh admitted to himself, he wasn't in the mood to be chewed out by his CO just for trying to be friendly—not on top of everything else.

So Joshua turned around, going back to his own quarters instead. He hoped that Nathan and George would be there already—he didn't want to sleep yet, despite how tired he was. Some company would be welcome.

Someone had tacked a blue Starfleet-issue blanket up over the gaping hole in the bulkhead, giving at least the illusion of privacy. When the door didn't open, Joshua just pushed the blanket aside, stepping over the jagged remains of the wall.

The dim glow of the emergency lighting brightened the near-blackness of his quarters. It wasn't much, but it let him see the three bedrolls neatly side by side on the floor, and his desk over to the side of the room. Someone from Engineering had taken the chair for spare parts, he remembered, but he couldn't recall when.

He didn't immediately notice Nathan—it was too dark—until the corporal lifted his head.

"Hey, Josh," Nathan said. He was sitting cross-legged against the wall. His face was almost entirely in shadow. When he spoke, it was like there was a ghost in the room, like his voice wasn't coming from anyone real.

"Hey, Nate," Joshua responded, happy to see him. He grinned, though he knew it was probably invisible in the darkness. "What you doing in the dark like that?" Joshua still had his hand on the makeshift curtain, pulling it aside so the light could come in from the corridor. Even the sickly half-light was better than total darkness. Joshua didn't want to be in total darkness, ever again.

"Waiting for you," Nathan said, and something in his voice made Joshua's blood go cold.

"What did you do, Nate?" He asked. It was an effort to keep his voice neutral, to stay where he was. He had the crazy thought that if he moved too fast, spoke too harshly, Nathan would bolt like an animal, like the wildness Joshua had seen before in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Nathan said. "I tried. I really did."

"What the fuck did you _do,_ Nate?" Joshua was moving now, crossing the room. He yanked the blanket down with one swift tug, intensifying the light somewhat. He dropped to his knees beside Nathan.

"Not again. Tell me you didn't do this again." Joshua knew with horrible certainty what was going to happen next. He knew exactly what he was going to find.

Nathan silently handed him his combat knife. There was blood on the blade. Joshua turned just enough to toss it onto his desk. It clattered like nails into the wall.

"Where is it? Where'd you cut?" Joshua pulled up Nathan's shirt, not even waiting for an answer, but there were no streaks of red on Nathan's chest or belly. He looked up, meeting Nathan's sad and apologetic eyes.

"Just here," Nathan said. He lifted his right arm, holding it so Joshua could see the inside of his wrist. "That's all I did." The earnestness in his voice made Joshua want to shake him. There was a cut on his inner forearm, just beneath the elbow. Joshua could barely make it out in the dim light.

Nathan's forearm was covered in blood, right down to the fingertips. It looked like oil, pouring out thick and black from the wound. Nathan had his left hand clamped tight over his arm, just above the cut—Joshua figured it'd be spurting otherwise, since he'd obviously punched through an artery.

Joshua sucked in a breath, remembering blood in the dark, putting his hand in the cooling remains of Jacob's life. "You asshole!" He shouted at Nathan, part of him perversely happy when Nathan flinched. "What the hell were you thinking? You trying to _die_?" He put his hand over Nathan's, adding more pressure. "I don't believe you," his voice went quieter, vicious. "You promised you wouldn't do this. You fucking _promised._ MACO's goddamn honor."

"I tried!" Nathan's head fell back against the wall. "I tried. But Snipe's dead, and...And you weren't here." His voice faded to a whisper. "The knife slipped, that's all. It was just an accident."

"Where's your dermal regenerator?" Joshua asked. It was difficult to control his voice.

"I don't know," Nathan said. "I couldn't find it—my quarters are mostly wrecked." His expression turned pleading. "The knife _slipped,_ Josh. I wasn't trying anything."

"Except slicing your fucking arm off," Joshua said. "You knew you had no way to fix it, but you cut yourself anyway, like some fucking idiot." He was climbing slowly to his feet as he spoke, being careful not to move his hand. He could feel Nathan's blood seeping through his fingers, a barely checked flood. "We gotta get you to sickbay."

"I've done it before." Nathan sounded almost defensive. He was tracking Joshua with his eyes as the sergeant moved around him. "This was an accident."

"You could have died, Nate," Joshua spat. He put his free hand under Nathan's arm, just where it joined his shoulder. "You could've bled out in my damn quarters. Did you think of that? How we'd feel when we lost you, too? And what the hell would I have told your brothers? That you killed yourself?" He took a breath, suddenly blinking back tears. "How could you do that?"

"I'm sorry," Nathan said. He uncrossed his legs, gathering his feet under him.

"You have to stop this, Nathan," Joshua said. "You have to stop. I can't keep finding you like this. What if—what if I hadn't come in?"

"I know," Nathan said. "I'm sorry."

"Not good enough," Joshua snapped. "You ready?"

"Yeah," Nathan nodded. He took a few breaths, gave a small, self- conscious laugh. "I'm a little dizzy."

"I'll bet," Joshua said caustically. "On three, okay?" He waited for Nathan's nod, bracing himself. "All right...One, two, three."

On "three," they both stood, Joshua pulling Nathan up.

Nathan had barely gained his feet before his legs buckled. Joshua just managed to catch him before Nathan's dead weight pulled both of them back to the floor.

"Shit! Nathan!" But Nathan was out cold, sagging limply against him. Joshua could feel the bleeding increase as the hand Nathan was holding against his cut relaxed. Joshua squeezed Nathan's fingers as hard as he could, barely relieved when the pulsing blood slowed again.

It was extremely awkward, trying to touch the communicator in his throat without actually letting go of Nathan, but Joshua finally managed it—by pressing his neck against Nathan's shoulder. His comm hissed into welcome life.

"Parsons! Come in!"

"Parsons." George answered with gratifying immediacy.

"Where the hell are you? Never mind. I need you in my quarters. Nate's out; we gotta get him to sickbay."

"On my way. ETA three minutes." George didn't even ask what was wrong, which made Joshua grateful. As it was, he had no idea what to tell him.

Well, he could always say that Nathan cut himself. After all, it was the truth.

* * *

"We need help here!" Joshua hollered even before the sickbay doors had fully opened, not giving a damn who he woke up. He and George were dragging Nathan, his arms slung over their shoulders. Joshua still had Nathan's wound in a death grip. His hand was aching and covered in blood.

Ensign Cutler and a medical assistant rushed over and helped them maneuver Nathan onto a bio bed. "What happened?" Cutler asked. She had taken over applying pressure to Nathan's arm, and Joshua sighed, nodding his thanks as he flexed his fingers.

Cutler turned to the guy who'd been helping her. "I need a cauterizer, now."

"He cut himself," George said, glancing at Joshua.

Joshua shrugged.

Cutler looked from the still-bleeding gash back to the two men, automatically taking the cauterizer as it was put into her hand. "On what?"

"His knife," Joshua said flatly.

Cutler's eyebrows rose, but she said nothing, turning her attention to the wound. "His pulse is good—he'll probably be okay once the bleeding stops. He might not even need a transfusion, as long as he takes it easy."

"I'm type O," Joshua said. "I'll give him some if he needs it."

"Me too." George nodded beside him.

"Okay," Cutler said. She flashed a smile, though her head was still bent over her work. "I'll let Phlox know." She glanced up at Joshua. "Are you saying he cut himself on purpose, Sergeant?"

"Yes," Joshua said. He could see George's shock out of the corner of his eye. "He wasn't attempting suicide," he added quickly at Cutler's look. "He just...cuts himself. Sometimes. This was an accident—I mean, he wasn't trying to hurt himself that badly."

"I see," Cutler said. She straightened up. There was a small, neat burn mark where the wound had been, and a slight unpleasant scent of cooked meat. But at least it wasn't bleeding anymore. "You might want to...suggest...that he discuss that with the doctor."

"I intend to, believe me." Joshua said, appreciating her diplomacy. He looked down at Nathan, still unconscious. He looked like he was just sleeping, like nothing at all was wrong. "Maybe I should speak to the doc now," Joshua said. "Let him know." It seemed kinder, somehow, than leaving Nathan to reveal everything to Phlox on his own.

"He was called away," Cutler said. The fleeter assisting her had just brought her an IV bag, and she was setting it up while she talked. Joshua tried not to watch as she stabbed the catheter into the back of Nathan's hand. "There was a medical emergency."

"Oh, okay." Joshua tried not to sigh, then was trying not to yawn.

"You should get some sleep, sir," George said. He tilted his head toward Nathan's bio bed. "I'll stay with him."

"You're just as tired as I am," Joshua protested.

George shrugged. "I'm not so bad." He gestured at Joshua's hands. "You should at least get cleaned up."

Joshua grimaced. He'd forgotten about the blood. "You're right." The shower in his quarters wasn't working, but the sink did, at least enough to let him clean his hands. "You're sure—'cause I'll come right back."

George laughed. "You're worse than Money. Go. I'll just stay until he wakes up, then I'll get some sleep. It'll be fine."

"Thanks," Joshua said. It was like George's offer had reminded him of how tired he actually was, and he suddenly wasn't sure if he could make it all the way back to his cabin. He checked Nathan one last time, thanked Cutler, said goodnight to George, and left.

As soon as he was outside sickbay, he stopped, leaning heavily against the corridor wall. "Jesus Christ," he whispered. The adrenaline was fading, leaving him jittery and weak. He felt sick.

He'd make Nathan talk to Phlox. He had to. What if his knife slipped next time, and there was no one there to help him? What if Nathan's knife slipped, and Joshua was the one who found his body?

He couldn't go through that again. God help him, he couldn't go through that again.

He pushed himself away from the wall with an effort, started the trek back to his quarters. He couldn't think like that. Nathan was okay. He was going to be okay.

Joshua would make sure of it.

* * *

Joshua stood next to the sickbay doors, arms crossed over his chest, as Phlox walked Nathan out of the curtained-off area where the corporal had spent the night. Phlox was smiling congenially as he reminded Nathan not to overtax himself. Nathan looked freshly scrubbed, and he was wearing the clean uniform Joshua had brought for him. Joshua was grubby as ever. He tried not to be jealous.

"Hey, Josh," Nathan said. He didn't meet Joshua's eyes.

Joshua ignored him. "Did he tell you how he got cut?" He asked Phlox.

Phlox's eyebrows went up. "Yes, we spoke about it," he said carefully, glancing between the two men.

"It's okay," Nathan said quietly to Phlox, "He knows."

"Ah," Phlox said. "Well, then it won't risk confidentiality to say things are under control, hm? Mr. Hawkins has agreed to come see me on a regular basis."

"Great." Joshua found a smile for the doctor. "Thank you." He turned to Nathan. "You ready?"

Nathan just nodded meekly. He kept his eyes lowered all the way out of sickbay and down the corridor. He didn't speak again until they were standing outside Joshua's quarters.

"Thank you for saving my life," he said. He finally looked at Joshua again, though it seemed to take an effort.

Joshua blinked, nearly recoiling. For a second he was on F deck, in the pitch black, saying those exact same words to Matthew. He shook his head sharply, pulling himself back to the present.

"I'd say 'you're welcome,'" Joshua said, "but I'm still too pissed."

Nathan looked hurt, but he flashed Joshua something that might've been a smile. "Guess I deserve that."

"Damn straight."

"I'm really sorry."

"Not good enough, Nathan!" Joshua barked. Then he glanced up and down the corridor, making sure they were alone. He moved the blanket aside and checked his quarters too, but the room was empty. He lowered his voice all the same. "You made me a promise—MACO's honor—and you broke it. You could've died. 'Sorry' isn't gonna cut it. How do I know you won't just pull this stunt again?"

Nathan straightened his shoulders, staring determinedly back at him. "Because I'm talking to someone about it now, sir," he said. "And because I'm swearing to you it won't happen again."

"I want to believe that, Nate," Josh said. "But you already lied to me."

Nathan paled. "I _never_ lied to you!"

Joshua just shrugged. "Not on purpose, sure. But if you'd told the truth, we wouldn't be standing here now."

Nathan shut his eyes, running his fingers though his hair. "What can I do, sir?" He asked finally, voice pained. "What will make you trust me again?"

"Talk to Phlox," Joshua said simply. "Or me, or Kit, or whomever the hell you want. Just as long as you do something to deal with what's bugging you. And don't cut yourself. Ever again." He stepped forward, his expression darkening. "If I even _suspect_ you're still cutting, I'm going to Hayes and making sure you spend the rest of this mission as a civilian. Am I clear?"

Nathan was still pale, but he nodded. "Perfectly, sir."

"Good." Joshua sighed. "You going to be okay?"

"I think so, sir." Nathan said seriously. Then he licked his lips, studying the blanket as if he suddenly found it fascinating. "Are we...Are we still good?" He asked. "I mean...You and me. We're good, right?"

"C'mere." Joshua pulled Nathan into a quick, rough hug, patting the tense muscles of the corporal's back. "Yeah, of course we're good. We're still friends."

Nathan's smile was a lot more real this time, when they stepped apart. "I'm glad," he said. "That—that means a lot."

"So," Joshua said, before the moment got awkward. "Looks like you got a day off. Any plans?"

"Not really," Nathan said. He was much more relaxed now, and gave a casual shrug. "Get my head down some more, probably write to my brothers."

"Good idea," Joshua nodded. "See you later, then."

"Yes, sir," Nathan said, as Joshua started walking. "...And sir?"

Joshua stopped. "Yeah?"

"Thank you for saving my life."

Joshua grinned at him, took a moment to squeeze Nathan's shoulder. "You're welcome."

* * *

"Sergeant!"

Joshua turned quickly, just managing to keep himself from automatically aiming his rifle. _Enterprise_ had been attacked, was dead in the water. He was standing with Amanda, O'Malley, and Woods, next to one of _Enterprise_ 's airlocks, guarding it in case a Xindi vessel attached to them. They'd had Xindi boarding parties on their ship once before—it wasn't going to happen again.

It was Malcolm Reed who'd called him. He was still wearing his silver EVA undersuit and it looked like he'd run all the way from the shuttle bay. "I need to speak with you," he said.

"Yes, sir." Joshua stepped forward immediately, unconsciously tensing his hands around his gun. Whatever Malcolm needed him for, it was going to be bad. He was sure of it.

He wished he could tell Malcolm how glad he was to see him, how worried he'd been. But this wasn't the time. It wouldn't ever be, not before Earth was safe.

He was a little surprised when they stopped after they'd only gone partway down a side corridor. Malcolm turned to face him, putting his hand on Joshua's shoulder where it curved into his neck. "I don't have much time," he said. "They need me on the bridge. But I—I had to see you." He took a breath. "Corporal Hawkins...Nathan is gone."

"What?" Joshua stepped back, as if distance would somehow make it impossible, make it not true. He shook off Malcolm's hand. "He's dead?" His own voice sounded small and astonished. "But it was just a recon mission." Joshua shook his head, took another step back. "He's _dead_?"

Malcolm nodded. "He died protecting me and T'Pol," he said. "He saved our lives." He stepped forward, reaching for Joshua again. "I'm so sorry."

Joshua let Malcolm touch him, rest his palm against his neck. He felt...dark inside. Empty. Like there was nothing left of him. "What happened?"

"There was this claw like machine, in the sphere," Malcolm said. "Our rifles barely affected it. It grabbed him...It was very fast," Malcolm added softly. "I don't think he felt any pain."

Joshua nodded dumbly. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for telling me." He turned, numb, heading back to the airlock.

"There's something else," Malcolm said, stopping him. Malcolm stepped closer, cupped Joshua's face with his other hand. "I know this isn't the right moment, but it has to be—I may never get another opportunity." His thumb caressed Joshua's cheek, gentle and warm. "When I was on the sphere, and I saw...what happened to Nathan, all I could think about was making it back here, coming back to you."

"I'm glad you did," Joshua said.

Malcolm smiled briefly. "Me too." Then his face became serious again, his eyes sad. "Ensign Sato's been kidnapped," he said. "You'll probably be on the team we send to rescue her."

"Yes, sir," Joshua said. He liked Sato. He'd do whatever it took to get her back.

"The thing is," Malcolm said, "I've realized that...that I love you. I love you, Joshua. So, you have to stay safe. You have to promise me that you'll make it back."

Joshua stopped breathing. His mind was reeling, careening between grief and tiny pinpricks of joy. _I can't take this,_ he thought. But he had to, he had to—this might be his last chance; this might be all they ever had.

"I promise," he said.

"Good," Malcolm said. And he kissed him once, fiercely, then stepped back, dropping his hands. "I have to go."

"I love you too, Malcolm," Joshua said.

"I know," Malcolm said. He sounded almost awed. "Thank you." He touched Joshua's face, a slight brush of fingertips. Then he turned, followed the corridor and was gone.

Joshua watched Malcolm until he was out of sight. Then he went back to the airlock.

"What was that about?" Amanda asked. She tilted her head, studying him. "You okay, Sarge?"

"No," Joshua said shortly. He steadied himself, facing his soldiers, his friends. "It's about Nathan," he said. And he told them.


End file.
